


Cage

by priestfucker



Category: Original Work
Genre: Everything is implied and not necessarily explicit but a strong warning needs to be placed, M/M, The characters involved belong to me and have no relation to any fandoms., This is mostly a vent story please don't question the details
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22909681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/priestfucker/pseuds/priestfucker
Summary: Memories of a traumatizing event.
Kudos: 1





	Cage

**Author's Note:**

> Triggering content. Discresion adviced.

I can’t see anything.

That’s the first thought that crossed my mind when I realized that my eyes had been open all along. Had I gone blind. That was the least of my concerns. Something on my wrists burnt. Rope, perhaps. Something like this shouldn’t have happened in the first place yet I laid there uselessly. Like a rabbit playing dead in order to avoid detection from a predator. Was I being unfair though, in calling that a predator? 

Had I somehow caused this to happen, I wondered at the time. 

I don’t control the hearts of people, and I simply do not understand them either. 

A life like this. Worthless. 

A hand reaches to my forehead. He is cold, freezing even. But who? To this day, I yet to understand. It’s been hours since I woke up. I remember feeling like my body was quite literally in flames. My wrists hurt. Everything about the situation was confusing. And finally I got answers when a familiar voice called out to me. 

“Comfortable?” He asked.

I don’t remember doing anything to him, at any point. But yet I laid there. A light bathed the room sharply. It was a lantern, but enough to overwhelm my eyes now used to the dark. I could feel tears of discomfort run down my cheeks. The burning was so overwhelming to them. I felt like apologizing to my eyes. Sensible to light in the first place. Naturally, my voice was gone as well. 

However this light shone understanding onto two things. First of all, I was inside a dog’s crate. And not exactly a big one. Second of, my wrists were tied with something slim to the bars, to the sides of my head. At this point there was no wonder. I was in for a world of pain. My arms were numb, too.

In an act of cruelty, he grabbed my head through the bars and slammed it against the cage’s wall. It felt like being in a blender, my vision became blurry and nausea immediately crunched my brain. There was no easy way to convey the shock that overcame me. “You won’t be for long.” His voice softly struck my ears. I only heard white noise at that point, though. It took me years to recall his words after that. 

It wasn’t anything too grand, either. He didn’t know. You know, about my body. I did try telling him once, but dumb as he was, he never understood.

Though, he made me pay for that. Immediately lost interest, the stupid man. And began kicking the cage while in a rage. Screaming that I’d been but “lying” to him. Or perhaps implying things I rather not talk about. He made sure everything was as painful as he could make it. I don’t think I’ve bled like that in years before or after. And I’ve been shot with a shotgun. For real. 

Was it maybe, my body. That made him stop? I just remember losing consciousness. Too much blood was lost, and slapping was no longer enough to keep me awake anymore. Maybe that’s what made him so angry. He wanted me to, physically, endure what I “put him through”, I suppose.

There was never going to be any way to calm him down, I suppose. 

What? Don’t look at me like that. 

It’s been such a long time. I’m sure he’s still out there, lamenting. A madman turned deaf and blind by love. Can you believe something so near can make people so fucking crazy. I sure as hell don’t. I don’t believe he, or any of them ever loved me. Nor do I think they can love anything. Or anyone, for that matter. 

Saying what happened that night is strange. It feels like a dream, a bad one. The person who was responsible for. Quite literally. Reconstructing some parts of my body described it as one of the most gruesome sights in her life. He most likely realized I could no longer die. When he defiled me. Or maybe it was the cut throat attitude. Whatever it was, he had no one, not even his consciousness, to hold him back.

Sometimes I wonder if he even knows what he did wrong. The whole thing with that night was apparently not enough to dissuade him from, you know, blaming me for a murder i didn’t commit.

This mark? Yeah. He stabbed me. 

Yeah. He 

What were we talking about? 

Right. Anyway, it’s been a long time. And I no longer care. He can fucking burn, as he should. I still dream about it constantly, you know. His eyes staring coldly at me while he cackles at my misery. At my body convulsing in pain. He enjoys it. And I simply wait for it to be over, watching this happen in third person from a corner in the room. No, I know I was dissociating big time. It was too much for me. Even thinking about it fucks me up. 

Walking outside without thinking “when will he return”, you know? That’s hard. I think about it every night. Sometimes. I wish I could have forgotten forever. His words, too. He called me trash, not even better than a substitute. You know. He asked why I was still alive. Swore to ruin my life. 

Well, he did, and the entire room is what I dream of every night. I can’t even look in the mirror, I just remember it. Every time. 

... 

What? 

No, he will never be near me again.


End file.
